Castiel's Revelation
by SeaKat
Summary: Tired of roaming across the world in search of his Father, Castiel finds the boys and starts a research project. After endless hours of internet time, he comes across something completely amazing...


**A/N: This story is dedicated to girlyghoul, an amazingly talented author and a friend. If you haven't read her stories, you are missing out! GG, one phrase from you and I couldn't get my muse to shut up! So, here it goes, I hope you enjoy. If I offend anyone, that was not my intention. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Castiel, or Sam (DAMN!!!). Mr. Kripke is sadistic and doesn't let them come play. I also do not own Bill Slowsky, that turtle belongs to Comcast. **

The angel hadn't moved from the table in days. His eyes were glued to the laptop and his fingers nimbly danced across the keyboard. His dark hair was tousled, his clothes tattered and wrinkled. His brow was furrowed with concentration as his baby blues absorbed the information flashing across the screen.

"Dude…not even you research that fast, geek-boy," Dean whispered.

Sam rolled his eyes and continued to make the morning coffee. Day 4 of Castiel's self-imposed scrutinization of the World Wide Web had begun. If Sam hadn't seen the sun rise and set, he would have thought it was the same long day…memories of the Trickster/Gabriel fiasco flooded his mind and a shiver ran up his spine.

"What do you think he is looking for? And why is that dinosaur of a laptop moving so fast for him? It usually takes at least 5 minutes for a page to open up," Sam questioned, the disquiet evident in his features. The puppy-eyes-of-doom turned to face Michael's vessel, a dark shadow of foreboding clouding the usually bright orbs.

"Well, he **is**an angel, Genius. He probably worked some of his sanctimonious mojo and the web is blazing with the speed of Angel Wings," Dean grinned. "Awww, Sammy why the long face? Let's jump onboard the Soulful Train and enjoy the ride!" He ducked the towel chucked at him. "Why don't you like fun?" he quipped. Sammy loved those turtle commercials. Dean snickered at the sour face his brother made and hastily retreated from the barrage of curses and the plastic mug that was thrown his way.

"Always trying to make a joke…can't take a damn thing seriously…'I've got a GED and a give 'em hell attitude'…yeah, that's gonna stop the Apocalypse, Dean," Sam grumbled under his breath. He was nervous to say the least. His anxiety levels had risen to the point of skirting a panic attack. All Dean had to worry about was becoming an Angel Condom…Sam was facing a white polyester suit for crying out loud!!

"That has to be Him…it's the only explanation. No human survive living like that…it's just not natural…" the Angel mumbled. His voice was a low hum, so soft and monotone that it almost went unnoticed.

"Did you say something, Cas?" Dean asked looking up from cleaning his pistol. He bit back a chuckle as the angelic face morphed from focused scowl to jubilant grin. A soft light emanated from the Angel Condom as he stood.

"I know where to find HIM! I know where He is, Dean. I found Father!!" he squealed like a child at Christmas.

The Winchesters scrambled from their seats, stumbling against each other in their haste to get closer, to hear more. "Where?!" They cried in unison. Castiel's eyes sparkled with glee as he pointed to the laptop.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Dean roared as he stared blankly at his angel. Sam sank down into the closest chair, placing his head in his hands. He rubbed circles on his temples, trying to relieve the pressure slowly building.

"I do not kid, Dean. It is the truth. If we seek Him there, He will reveal His plan for us."

"We are going to find GOD at a concert?! Is He going to be one of the bloated, middle-aged potheads wearing a black t-shirt with a pair of red lips on it? Or will He be one of the bleach blonde, wrinkled, saggy-chested broads that think it's still okay to wear spandex?" Dean's voice carried with it every frustration, every fear, every bit of anger he had pushed down his entire life. This was some big freakin' cosmic joke and he was the butt of it.

"Think about it, Dean…it kinda makes sense…" Sam quietly spoke. The calmness in his voice pulled Dean back from the edge. "Who else could snort that much crap up his nose and still be alive?"

"So, I guess we are heading to a concert…Your serious? Do you know what this means?" the green-eyed man stammered. "The Stones really are rock gods!" The angel's face became stern before he spoke.

"No, Dean. They are not gods. There is only one God…Keith Richards."

**Another Disclaimer**: I do not, in any way, shape or for, want to pretend that I own the Stones Or Mr. Richards. I could'nt put this at the beginning, cuz, well it would give it up. I don't make any money from my stories, so please, don't sue me.


End file.
